Buried Alive
by MacGateFan
Summary: Dean becomes the next target in a crazy spirit's agenda. Will Sam find him in time?


Title: Buried Alive

Rating: PG-13

Author: MacGateFan/Turch

Disclaimers: Unfortunately neither of these fine looking boys, nor this show, belong to me.

Dean woke up in total darkness. His head was pounding unmercifully and his hands shook as he reached into his pocket for a lighter. His elbow slammed into the wall to his right and that made his heart skip a beat. Another skipped beat when his hand touched the wall to his left.

The lighter was flipped on and his worst fear was confirmed. The crazy spirit had buried him alive! How the hell was Sam going to find him. In the struggle with the spirit, Dean had lost his cell.

************

**Previous Evening**

Sam sighed and rubbed his tired eyes. They had less than 24 hours before their spirit found another victim to bury alive and they still couldn't find his identity. Once they did, they could salt and burn the bastard's body.

He looked up when the door opened. His brother Dean entered looking quite smug as he set down a case of beer and burgers from the diner down the street. "What?" Sam asked.

"I am so good, dude," Dean replied, twisting the cap off his beer. "Matthew Jenkins."

Sam straightened. "Our spirit?"

"Yeah. According to Courtney and by the way they're real!"

Sam rolled his eyes. "Dean!"

"Right. His brother Frank was buried alive when he was 15. Matthew tried to save him but by the time the police arrived they were too late. Frank was dead. Seems like he haunts that stretch of road and buries people alive hoping to gain justice for what happened to Frank."

"So," Sam said, reaching for his burger. "Did Courtney know where he was buried?"

Dean nodded. "St. Michael's Cemetery, which happens to be right near highway 15 where his latest victim was found."

The brothers arrived at the cemetery around 10:30. That was about 20 minutes before Jenkins appeared and buried someone alive. Unfortunately the ground was hard as a rock because of the lack of rain so it took them extra time to dig up the grave.

Dean stood guard after he tossed Sam the salt and lighter fluid. "We've got company, Sammy," Dean said. "I'll distract him."

"Dean!"

"I'll be fine, just get hopping!"

Sam quickly doused the spirit and climbed out of the grave only to hear a loud growl and the sound of someone hitting the windshield of a car. "That can't be good," he muttered, worrying about his brother.

There was only one way to help Dean right now, but as he reached for the lighter when something smacked him on the back of his head. Sam lay dazed on the ground for a minute before regaining his senses, turning on the lighter and dropping it into the grave.

Satisfied he stood, looking for signs of his brother. When he didn't see him, Sam grabbed his cell phone and dialed Dean's number as he hurriedly reburied Jenkin's body.

"You've reached Dean. Leave a message and I'll get back to you."

Sam hung up the phone, grabbed the duffle and ran towards the Impala. Dean wasn't there either. There was a car on the side of the rode with a smashed in windshield and blood on it. Again no sign of Dean.

"God, no," he gasped out when he noticed no sign of digging anywhere. How the hell was he going to find him now? Sam cursed when he heard the familiar sound of Enter Sandman, Dean's latest ringtone.

**************

Dean couldn't keep the lighter lit for very long, not if he wanted to conserve oxygen. He never did well in tight spaces and this was cleary not helping the situation. And the pain in his head and back were not going to relent anytime soon. He really hated being thrown into cars.

Right. Think of the Impala. Cross country driving, the wind blowing in your face, music blaring some Van Halen, and Sam sitting next to you shaking his head at your singing.

Sam.

Oh God, how was Sam going to find him? The son of bitch spirit had dragged him through the woods while he tried hard to get free. Getting his head smacked into rocks repeatedly may have had something to do with it.

Dean wanted to stay awake. He really did, but dark black spots were floating in his line of vision and his lungs burned for the oxygen that was now non-existent. He coughed and heaved.

One more word: "Sammy..."

************

It took Sam way too long, in his opinion, to find the spot where Jenkins buried Dean. His heart pounded wildly in his chest at the thought of what he would find when he got to his big brother.

Once Sam was finished digging, he dropped down to the box, pounding on it with the shovel, his hand, anything to break the damn box.

He ignored the pain of the skin being torn from his knuckles. There was only important objective here and that was saving Dean's life. He cried in relief once the wood finally gave away.

"Dean!" Sam choked out. He felt a very slow pulse but the older Winchester was clearly not breathing anymore.

Sam began rescue breathing for his brother. It took him a good three minutes- three long minutes- before Dean began to breath again. He coughed and sat up, completely disoriented.

"Sammy?"

"Dude, you scared the shit out of me!" Sam replied.

"Me too, Sammy. Me too."

Dean found himself clutching tightly to Sam's shirt. "Lets get out of here," Sam suggested and Dean nodded.

Sam hoisted himself out first, and then reached down for Dean, pulling his brother up. With the full moon shining through the trees Sam was able to assess his brother's head injury.

"Well, at least it stopped bleeding."

"Dude, get off me. You're way too close."

Sam understood Dean's meaning. It had been tight quarters in that box and all that dirt on top of it... Feeling Dean's eyes on him, Sam stood and gathered their things.

"Ready?" he asked.

"Definitely!" Dean replied. The minute his feet were under him the world tilt at an odd angle and he felt himself teetering towards the open grave. Sam reached out and grabbed his jacket. "Shit!"

Sam's eyes were wide as saucers. "Damn, you okay?"

Dean merely glared at him. "Yeah..." He trailed off suddenly realizing something. "He threw me into a car!"

"It's all right, Dean. He didn't throw you into the Impala. She's in one piece."

Dean sighed in relief and followed Sam to his baby. He could tell his little brother was getting ready to be all Florence Nightingale on him. To be honest he wouldn't hate it.

His head was pounding horribly again and he kept trying to take deep breaths but it was kind of heard. Dean walked to rest of the way on autopilot, not saying a word to Sam about driving his car carefully.

Sam had just barely pulled away from the curb when Dean's heart started racing. It was really hot in that car and it felt way too confining. To top it all off his back was killing him. Reaching around under his jacket to rub it, Dean felt the familiar wet sensation on his hand.

"Huh," he said, staring at the dark crimson. No wonder he was ready to pass out. "Sammy..."

"Yeah, Dean?"

"Gonna pass out now." And Dean was true to his word.

**************

Sam intermittently stole glances at Dean, worried about the color that had drained from his face. He couldn't even imagine what it was like to be buried alive and Sam knew his brother wasn't going to talk about it anytime soon.

Since Sam couldn't reach over to open Dean's window, he opened his own. Sam's stomach flipped when he saw Dean reach around to his back and pull away his hand filled with fresh blood.

"Huh," he said, staring at the dark crimson. No wonder he was ready to pass out. "Sammy..."

"Yeah, Dean?"

"Gonna pass out now."

Sam pressed down on the gas pedal.

*************

"Yeah, Bobby, he's fine. Fever's gone down and he's been out of it but I think he's out of the woods."

Dean blinked his bleary eyes and watched as Sam multi-tasked between typing away on his laptop and talking to Bobby on his cell. The last thing he remembered was feeling the sticky wetness on his hand and seeing blood everywhere.

Wait, blood was everywhere...

Dean sat up, immediately regretting the pain blossoming in his lower back. "Whoa, easy, Dean!"

"Sammy?"

"Yeah, what's wrong? Did you have another nightmare?"

He just glared at his brother. "No you idiot! The Impala! Is she all right? I mean I practically bled to death in her!"

"She's gonna be fine," Sam replied with a roll of his eyes. He couldn't believe they were both talking about that car as if it were a human. "I wiped the seats down after I got you settled in here. I knew you'd kick my ass if I left it a mess."

"Not it. She!"

"Whatever, jerk!"

"Bitch!"

Sam shook his head as he dumped out some pain pills, handing them to his brother along with a glass of water. "You really know how to how to show your thanks for the person who saved your life and your car from total destruction."

"Yeah," Dean said, taking the pills. "We don't need to get into all the mushy stuff when you already know what I'm going to say."

"What's that?"

Dean shrugged as he moved to a seated position. He gingerly stood up again glaring at Sam when he tried to help. "Dude, I just gotta take piss!"

"Dean."

Sam thought he was just going to be annoyed, but Dean turned to face him, his glare replaced by a smile- a smile that conveyed every feeling Sam could ever imagine. And just before he shut the door, Dean said, "Thanks, Sammy."


End file.
